


Multitasking

by ThereBeWhalesHere



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Not exactly dirty talk, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11454978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereBeWhalesHere/pseuds/ThereBeWhalesHere
Summary: There is an awful lot of work to be done, but that doesn't mean Jim and Spock can't indulge in themselves a little.





	Multitasking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anifanatical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anifanatical/gifts).



> Thanks [Anifanatical](http://anifanatical.tumblr.com) for the request! This was SO much fun to write.

Jim rested his chin in his hand, watching Spock with the kind of intensity of focus that should have been directed toward the datapadd that he held loosely in his hand. His first officer sat across the table in Jim’s quarters, back straight, attention properly directed toward his own reports. He wore that pleasant, neutral expression he often wore anymore, lips lax and eyes soft at their edges, the harsh tilt of his brows lessened somewhat by the simple comfort of their solitude together. Jim couldn't blame himself for staring. The way Spock's eyes moved dutifully across each line was far more interesting than the landing party regulation update he was supposed to be going through. 

 

This quiet working companionship had become a daily routine over the last six or so months, during which they had been officially ‘dating,’ if that was the appropriate word. It had started as an excuse to spend a little more time together than usual, but Spock had observed frequently that their efficiency increased when they worked in each other's company. 

 

At least, it usually did. Jim found himself particularly distracted tonight. He couldn’t say why, exactly. There were just moments that he would look at Spock, really  _ look _ at him, and realize that this was real. Them. A couple. He could kiss Spock whenever he wanted (within reason). Share his bed. Tell him openly and honestly that he loved him and watch the green spread over his cheeks. He’d feel overcome with his good fortune, his happiness, his pure and perfect bliss, and-- in those moments, moments like these-- it was difficult to look away.

 

“What is your opinion on Ensign Gabriel’s request to--” Spock began, but he paused when he lifted his eyes to Jim's, and caught him staring. “Jim?”

 

Making a decision, Jim set his padd off to the side with a careless little toss. “Why don't we take a break?” Jim asked. He climbed to his feet and circled casually round the desk, watching Spock straighten slightly and raise his brow.

 

“We have only just begun,” Spock protested, “and there is much work to be done before we are scheduled to meet Doctor McCoy for dinner.”

 

Jim considered this, leaning on the table beside Spock’s makeshift workstation. “Oh, I suppose you’re quite right, Mister Spock,” he said, exaggerating the disappointment in his own voice. “No time for other, more  _ pleasurable _ , pursuits with Ensign Gabriel’s request on our table.”

 

Unable to help his childish pride at the darkening of Spock’s eyes, Jim widened his stance slightly, an invitation in the subtle gesture. Thankfully, Spock was rather excellent at picking up on Jim’s subtle gestures. It was one reason they worked so well together, in business and in pleasure. 

 

After a moment, Spock took a breath through his nose and set the padd down on the table. When he looked up, there was something playful in his expression. 

 

“I  _ am _ quite adept at multitasking,” Spock offered gently, and Jim’s grin stretched wide over his face.

 

“How lucky for me,” Jim said, and he moved toward Spock’s chair, leaning in and settling his hands on the armrests. In one smooth motion, he bracketed his legs on either side of Spock’s and rested comfortably onto his lap, enjoying the almost imperceptible hitch of breath that came with the soft pressure of their bodies fitting line-to-line against each other. Leaning down, he laid a kiss along the curve of Spock’s neck, something so gentle his lips barely grazed skin. “So, Mister Spock,” he whispered, “remind me again about Ensign Gabriel’s request?” He continued to trail small kisses, gentle nips, along Spock’s throat, fingertips curling in the collar of Spock’s tunic to expose the tiniest extra stretch of skin.

 

Spock swallowed, and a hand came up to lay along the curve of Jim’s lower back. “He-- has asked to join the engineering team working on boosting our maximum warp capability,” Spock explained. With a little effort, Jim noticed.

 

Humming a little, as if in deep thought, Jim ran his hands down Spock’s chest and lifted his head to meet Spock’s eyes. He rolled his hips experimentally, a smile quirking his lips as Spock’s other hand came to join his first, urging Jim’s movements on. “Do you think he’s ready for something like that?” Jim asked, seemingly unaffected, though the subtle friction was not lost on him. “He only joined the crew last month, after all.”

 

Before Spock could respond, Jim sank against him, grazing their lips together lightly. He flicked out his tongue along the seam, enjoying the burst of Spock’s hot breath that met his own.

 

“I--” Spock started against Jim’s lips, and Jim ground down against him, already feeling the erection rising in Spock’s trousers. “I have not-- not monitored his progress closely.” Jim’s hands slipped under Spock’s tunic and crawled up his abdomen to his chest. The sheer heat of him never failed to surprise Jim, just as it never failed to send his blood surging. “However,” Spock continued dutifully, “his direct superiors--” Spock sucked in a breath as Jim brought fingertips to nipples, tweaking softly. 

 

“Direct superiors… ?” Jim prompted, laying a kiss along Spock’s jaw and licking a straight line to the hollow of his ear.

 

Spock shuddered deliciously, but Jim did have to give him credit for going on in spite of his very clear arousal. “His direct superiors have suggested he displays the necess--necessary level of ambition to warrant such an assignment.” The last words were rushed, as though Spock knew that when Jim’s tongue ran along the tip of his ear, he wouldn’t be able to force out the rest. Sure enough, as Jim nipped at the point, Spock let out a little groan, a sound that went straight to Jim’s cock, which had already begun to strain against its constriction.

 

Smiling wickedly, Jim brought his lips once more to Spock’s ear and whispered breathily. “Ambition doesn’t mean much without knowledge. Experience. And this project is--” he rolled with more insistent force against the hard body below him, pointedly rubbing his length against Spock’s own, “ _ sensitive _ ,” he finished.

 

A legitimate whimper came from the back of Spock’s throat, and Jim pulled away, running his hands back down the plane of Spock’s body. He brought them to the button of Spock’s slacks, meeting his lover’s eyes.

 

“Even so,” Spock said, tone drenched in forced professionalism, “with supervision…” Jim popped the button and pinched the zipper between his fingers, pulling it down with exquisite care without once taking his eyes off Spock’s. “he could quite easily… _ function _ in a benef--beneficial--” Spock pulled his lip between his teeth, cutting off his own speech as Jim’s hand slipped beneath his briefs and fisted his erection. 

 

The look on his face was delectable, and even as those eyes fluttered closed with sensation, Jim couldn’t help himself leaning forward, taking Spock’s lips in a kiss and tugging at his cock. 

Spock’s hands moved up to Jim’s shoulders, fingertips sinking into the pliant muscle with deceptive strength, urging him closer. They licked into each other’s mouths, hungry and humming their pleasure. Beneath Jim’s fingers, Spock hardened noticeably, and Jim pulled him out to get a better hold. Distracted, he broke the kiss, licking the shine from his own lips.

 

“My engineers aren’t babysitters,” Jim reminded Spock, giving an intentional pull and twist of his wrist that he knew would make Spock groan.

 

It did, causing a ripple of anticipation to course through him. Spock hadn’t opened his eyes-- maybe he didn’t trust himself to-- and Spock leaning back in that chair with his lips parted and his eyes shuttered and his cock out and flushed between Jim’s fingers was the most obscenely beautiful sight Jim could envision. It took all his self control not to claim another kiss, but he imagined it took Spock quite a bit more to force himself to speak.

 

“You insinuate,” Spock said, voice hoarse, “that supervision would distract from-- ah!” Jim pulled at Spock’s erection, then again, setting up a rhythm now, something slow but decidedly deliberate. “ _ Distract _ ,” Spock forced out, “from the project itself.”

 

Jim was considering his response, mind admittedly clouded with the quiet building of pressure in his groin, when Spock’s hands roved down his back and came back round to his waist. When those long fingers slipped themselves along the line of his waistband, Jim felt himself shiver visibly, a tremor that started in his legs and tingled its way up through every extremity. Then, those lust-blown eyes opened once again to meet his own.

 

“I just mean to say,” Jim said magnanimously, allowing Spock to undo the fastening at his waist. He couldn’t help the slight hum of relief that slipped out as soon as the pressure eased and Spock’s knuckles brushed against the bulge in his briefs, but he tried to regain himself. “I don’t want anyone wasting time on training…” He lifted himself and settled his weight on his knees so Spock could tug his slacks and briefs over his ass and down his thighs. The cool air hit him, and Jim took in a sharp breath. “When--” he continued, “when there are more important things for our best and brightest to be, ah-- to be doing.” 

 

Though, of course, he was rather distracted by what the Enterprise’s best and brightest was _currently_ doing. Spock’s hands grazed up and down his legs as Jim’s cock hung free between them, thumbs digging into the ‘v’ of Jim’s groin. Jim gave Spock’s ridges an appreciative stroke of his thumb, delighting in the shudder that passed through his lover and aching for Spock to follow suit, to curl a fist around him and drag out his pleasure as he was dragging out Spock’s.

 

But he’d lost the thread of his thoughts, and so attempted to collect them again, incredibly aware of the hot fingertips tracing hot lines over his skin as they approached his cock with exhaustingly slow intention. “Time,” Jim continued, barely sure where his words were running, “time is incredibly valuable, Mister Sp-- Oh!”

 

Spock slipped his fingers below Jim’s erection and now cupped his balls, squeezing them gently but with the promise of restrained strength. The feeling shot fire through Jim’s erection, which twitched in response, straining for friction he wasn’t about to find until Spock offered it to him. Jim’s own rhythm faltered, but he tightened his grip, ‘causing Spock to whine slightly.

 

Point momentarily forgotten, Jim pushed forward, shoving Spock’s head back so he could capture his mouth, a sloppy kiss with too much tongue and teeth, but something he rocked into just as he shoved down into the hold of Spock’s hand.

 

They kissed like they couldn’t get enough-- and of course, they never could-- Spock’s free hand coming up to Jim’s hair, his other curling around Jim’s girth and beginning to pump, just as Jim regained his own pattern. 

 

He loved the feeling of Spock’s fingers, their heat and their length and their insistence. Spock always touched Jim without hesitation, knowing exactly where he wanted to touch, where _ Jim _ wanted to be touched, knowing the right pressure to apply, the right angle-- every action completed with utter surety.

 

Jim bucked into his hand, gasping into his mouth before finding Spock’s tongue and sucking it between his lips. Spock moaned, cock throbbing in Jim’s grip. When finally Jim pulled back for air, tightening his fist out of pure, selfish arousal, Spock was rubbing the head of his cock with an exploratory fingertip. It made Jim whimper, transparent in his desperation, though he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

“You were saying, Jim?” Spock asked, voice barely more than a breath.

 

What had Jim been saying? He was so focused now on the precum that had coated Spock’s fingertip, which he drew in a single line down Jim’s shaft, so focused on the way Spock’s hand gripped him wholly once again and began tugging in time with Jim, so focused on rolling his hips in just the right way, keeping his free hand on Spock’s shoulder for balance, the strain in his thighs, the bite of tight fabric into his skin as he spread his legs wider on the too-narrow chair.

 

“If--” Jim practically gasped the word, dropped his head to Spock’s shoulder and bit his lip against a groan for a moment. “Fuck, Spock, please don’t stop. If he’s willing to-- fuck-- to put in the work and-- oh,  _ Spock _ .” 

 

He could feel his climax approaching, his hand moving now out of instinct rather than intention as he drew his grip from the base of Spock’s erection to its tip, collecting Spock’s dripping precum on each stroke, making his palm slick. 

 

Spock grunted as he bucked up into Jim’s hand, jostling him, though it only served to make Jim buck forward himself. He was hyper-aware of every physical sensation, every hot exhale Spock released against his ear, the smell of Spock’s tunic where he buried his face, the movement in the body against him and the trembling of his own limbs, but mostly that hand, which always worked him so expertly Jim could never quite believe Spock had been a virgin before they’d known each other.

 

“Oh, fuck it, Spock,” Jim gasped, digging his fingers harder into Spock’s shoulder, wishing they weren’t still clothed so he could feel his nails sinking into skin. It was always so satisfying to see the marks he left, the evidence of every encounter. “What’s your--mmh,  _ oh _ \--  _ your _ recommen--dation.  _ Fuck _ .”

 

Spock flicked out his tongue to trace Jim’s ear from lobe to shell, his breath as labored as Jim’s was. Jim could feel the cock in his hand pulsing, tightening, and he fit his fingers in such a way that put pressure on the hard vein that ran along Spock’s length.

 

With a groan that had Jim biting his lip, Spock’s hand clenched fantastically around Jim, freezing at his base and squeezing.

 

“A trial period,” Spock choked out in a rush, then, “Jim, Jim I’m--”

 

Jim pulled him through it, pace quickening, lifting his head from its berth on Spock’s shoulder so he could watch, enamored as he always was by the moment Spock crumbled, his defenses falling, overtaken by pleasure. Throwing his head back, Spock opened his mouth soundlessly and practically spasmed, spilling himself into the clench of Jim’s hand, jerking his hips so violently he almost unseated his lover. But Jim pressed his knees harder against the arms of the chair to keep himself steady, coating his fingers in Spock’s seed and slicking his throbbing erection. Spock let out a groan that Jim felt reverberate through his every nerve, something so unguarded and so honest it made Jim’s own neglected cock ache. 

 

With a few more solid strokes, Jim felt the body beneath him grow lax, tension fading from every muscle, the high of release leaving Spock breathless. Jim could have watched him forever, heaving chest, leaking cock, eyes closed against the overwhelming sensation. But Spock never allowed himself to get tugged too far into the afterglow if Jim hadn’t yet joined him. In moments, Spock’s hand regained its pace, more insistent now than ever. With the hand still clenched in Jim’s hair, Spock dragged Jim into a kiss, forcing open his mouth and moaning into him with stupefied satisfaction. Jim matched the force of his lips, bucking gracelessly into Spock’s hand once, twice more before his own release crashed over him like a tidal wave. 

 

He felt the thrill rip through him, seizing every muscle, every limb, and somewhere he heard himself crying out, voice muffled by the mouth against his own. Spock swallowed every sound, sank his teeth into Jim’s lip, jerked him through the aftershocks with single-minded determination until Jim was gasping wetly against his lips and begging him breathlessly to stop because it was too, too much. Far too much. Searing and overwhelming and so stunningly perfect it felt like he was flying.

 

Spock’s hand slowed, grip slackening as he traced the line of Jim’s shaft with tantalizing fingertips. Jim couldn’t stop himself from bucking into the bare friction, letting out little ‘ah’s of lingering pleasure as the world began to return to him. When it did, he realized he had, at some point, released Spock’s softening erection and, at some point, taken fistfuls of Spock’s rumpled and splattered tunic, and now he carefully unclenched his hands, panting to regain his breath. He flopped fully and bodily onto Spock’s lap, relieving the weight on his taxed thighs.

 

With a look of imminent satisfaction, Spock brought his hands to Jim’s. Both of them were a mess, cum clinging to the spaces between their fingers, hair mussed, uniforms decidedly ruined, but lord, if Jim wasn’t happier than he’d been in  a long, long time.

 

He smiled at his lover, feeling the sting where Spock had bitten his lip. “A trial period, then, Mister Spock?” Jim asked, still unsure of the power of his own voice, which certainly came out a little tremulous.

 

Spock’s own half-smile was warm, blissful and-- Jim thought-- a little proud of himself. “That is my recommendation,” Spock said, his own voice much more controlled than Jim’s. 

 

Well that wouldn’t do. Gently, Jim lifted one of Spock’s hands to his face and licked the line of his palm to the tip of his middle finger, collecting cum on his tongue. Spock quivered, fingers curling slightly as Jim ran his tongue between them, sucking slightly at their tips as he did so. Distracted by his task, he didn’t speak again until he’d licked every drop of cum from Spock’s hand, until Spock was flushed from cheek to neck where his skin disappeared beneath his tunic. His lips were parted, and Jim was sure if he kept this up Spock would be more than amenable to a second round before dinner.

 

But, of course, there was work to be done.

 

“Considering I’ve rather lost my ability to think,” Jim said delicately, releasing Spock’s hand and laying his own along the curve of Spock’s jaw. “I believe I’ll go ahead and take that recommendation.”

 

Spock’s lips twitched, and he leaned forward, reaching around Jim to take up his padd. Jim snorted at the sight, the discordant images of his professional and practical first officer with the man who’d just jerked off into Jim’s fist. Spock was still trembling slightly, still green with heat and arousal, still incredibly and obviously ruffled, but of course he had to make note of their decision. A surge of fondness rose within Jim’s heart and he settled back on Spock’s knees, watching him work.

 

Spock tapped something onto the screen, then set the padd aside once more. “I believe this is a satisfactory solution,” Spock said softly.

 

“And, I think, the most fun I’ve ever had reviewing crew requests,” Jim added with a chuckle.

 

A small smile was offered as his reward, and Jim leaned forward, meeting Spock’s lips in a kiss that, in moments, had Jim clutching at his tunic again, still sensitive to every touch. Spock fit his hands beneath the curve of Jim’s rear, palming his thighs, and Jim smiled into his lips. Perhaps a second round wasn’t the worst possible idea.

 

“You know,” he purred when Spock pulled away, and he pushed himself forward until they were chest-to-chest, stomach-to-stomach, their spent cocks pressed between them. “I wouldn’t mind talking through this regulation to restructure landing parties, if you don’t mind multitasking a little longer.”

 

In reality, he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the regulation if Spock kept looking at him the way he looked at him now-- eyes brimming with affection and, more immediately, renewed interest. But…

 

Spock grabbed harder at Jim’s thighs and lifted him, standing in one swift motion as Jim startled and wrapped his arms around Spock’s neck to steady himself. Spock began to walk them toward the bed, and Jim’s heartbeat raced with the thrill of Spock’s strength. 

 

“We may very well have to cancel dinner,” Spock said with the tiniest twinge of mock regret in his tone. “It seems we underestimated how much paperwork required our attention this evening.” 

 

Jim laughed as Spock deposited him gently on the bed. He kicked out of his shoes and slacks, and grinned gleefully up at his lover as Spock peeled his tunic from his back. 

 

And while he knew Spock probably had a thousand statistics floating around his mind about the detrimental effect of multitasking on productivity, neither of them raised an objection when they came together again, bare against each other, forgetting-- just for a moment-- whatever it was they were supposed to be talking about.


End file.
